


Snowflakes in the Spring

by butternugget



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Graduation, M/M, OT12 (EXO), Rich Kim Junmyeon | Suho, Rich Wu Yi Fan | Kris, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24856102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butternugget/pseuds/butternugget
Summary: Junmyeon is trying to plan his high school formal, no thanks to his student council co-president Wu Yifan, who seems like he’d rather do anything than help shoulder the workload and stand by his side. In the meantime, Jongin doesn’t want to write his university application essays, Luhan wonders exactly how much damage his football cleats would be able to deal to a particular Chinese-Canadian student, and Minseok thinks that Junmyeon needs an intervention.And despite his dedication to the student council, Junmyeon might come across a new favourite extracurricular activity somewhere along the way.Spin-off of Kaisoo centricI am delighted to inform you!
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Park Chanyeol, Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongin | Kai, Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Minseok | Xiumin, Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Wu Yi Fan | Kris, Lu Han/Oh Sehun
Comments: 7
Kudos: 45
Collections: The GraduaXion





	Snowflakes in the Spring

**Author's Note:**

> This is a spin-off of [this fic, I am delighted to inform you!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24502342/chapters/59146486) It’s 25K and Kaisoo centric, and this story might make more sense if you read that one first. I hope you enjoy reading :)

The clink of silverware and the chatter of hundreds of voices filled the cafeteria with a comforting bubble of warmth on a chilly December afternoon. Junmyeon sat at his usual lunch table with his two best friends, slouched over his laptop with his lunch tray laying untouched beside him. The lunch special today was mackerel, one of Junmyeon’s favorites, but he resisted the tantalizing aroma clawing at his empty stomach and instead sipped at his carton of strawberry milk, concentrating on his task at hand.

“Just send it already,” Jongin urged from beside him, his eyes glittering in amusement while Luhan screeched through a mouthful of rice from his seat across the table. “You’ve been checking the email draft over for mistakes for almost the whole lunch period, I’m sure it’s fine.”

Junmyeon ignored him, his eyes darting across his laptop screen as he read through each sentence in his head, because they didn’t _understand_ , it had to be perfect. What if he had missed out on a detail or misspelled a word? Maybe he should add a note about the dress code, it _was_ a relatively upscale venue, after all…

“It’s not like you’re writing to the president or something, it’s an email to Wu Yifan, aka useless creature, and let’s be honest, he probably won’t read the email anyways.” Luhan drawled, reaching over to give Junmyeon a sympathetic pat on the back. “It’s literally a fact that he was just elected because everyone thought that he was hot and nice and didn’t really know that he has the work ethic of a goddamn hibernating sloth yet.”

Jongin perked up at that, looking up from his own laptop. “I don’t think sloths hibernate, but bears do! Especially grizzly bears, they—”

“Back to your application essays,” Luhan chided, and Jongin quickly put on his best kicked puppy look before turning his attention back to his screen, mumbling something along the lines of _what’s so great about you Cornell? Even your name is like a cross between corn and hell why should I write a 650 word essay for you anyways?_ It was in moments like these that Junmyeon was grateful that he wasn’t applying to any American universities, even though studying for the _suneung_ , the Korean scholastic aptitude test for applying to universities, had probably shaved thirty years off of his lifespan with the ungodly amount of unhealthy snacks that he had consumed to sustain himself. Even looking the pringles man in the eye now sent shivers down his spine.

Luhan pivoted in his seat to face Junmyeon, his signature deceivingly innocent grin plastered to his face. “Stop lying to yourself, Myeonnie. You know that you only care about him because of his looks.”

“No—” Junmyeon began to splutter, but was it really his fault that Yifan had a nice face?

“You’re right,” Luhan said placatingly. “He’s not _that_ handsome. Not nearly handsome enough to be spending hours editing an email that’ll just go into his spam inbox.”

“Seconded,” Jongin said absentmindedly, to which Luhan responded with a scoff.

“You’re just saying that because you think that everyone pales in comparison to your precious little Kyungsoo. Which reminds me, when are you going to make a move instead of just staring at him creepily across the room?”

Jongin’s face reddened at that, and he immediately ducked to hide his face behind his computer screen. “Stop! I’m busy! Writing my essays and things!”

Junmyeon practiced his life-saving skill of selective listening, paying no mind to the bickering happening beside him. He skimmed his email draft one more time, before holding his breath and finally clicking send. Because Luhan was right— Yifan, his student council co-president, wasn’t the worst coworker ever, but he certainly wasn’t the best. Honestly, Junmyeon was impressed that he still showed up to weekly meetings even if he just mostly went through the motions, and his greatest contribution thus far was probably that his mere presence was enough to make most members show up to fawn over him.

This weekend he had made plans to visit a few potential venues for the school’s winter formal, and he thought that he would at least invite Yifan to come along with him. It would be nice to have some company and to have someone to discuss his thoughts with, and okay, Yifan was cute, too. It had irked him in the beginning that Yifan seemed to put so little effort into the student council, but he figured that there may be something else going on in his life that required his attention. Maybe he was leading a double life as a secret agent for the North Korean military, or maybe he was an underground street racer whose front was pretending to just be a regular high school student. More likely, he would just rather spend time watching Korean dramas at home than deal with event logistics— just as would Junmyeon— but the taller boy was always pleasant enough, and Junmyeon had a plethora of other things to worry about.

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind as he closed the lid of his laptop, zipping it into his laptop case and sparing the fluffy bunny keychain on his backpack a tiny smile. Luhan had gifted it to him as an early Christmas present, and Luhan and Jongin both had matching plushies hanging off of their backpacks— a bear and a deer respectively.

Luhan leaned over to sneak a piece of rolled omelette off of his lunch tray, and Junmyeon hummed in content as he spooned a bite of mackerel into his mouth. “Did you finally send it?” he inquired, and Junmyeon nodded in reply. “Well, let me know if you get a response, but I won’t be holding my breath.”

Just then, his phone pinged with a new notification, and Junmyeon unconsciously held his breath while he dug his phone out of the front pouch of his backpack.

  
  
  


From: [ kim.junmyeon@smhigh.edu ](mailto:kim.junmyeon@smhigh.edu)

To: [ wu.yifan@smhigh.edu ](mailto:wu.yifan@smhigh.edu)

Subject: Formal Event Visits

Dear Yifan,

In preparation for the upcoming winter formal, I have scheduled a few visits to potential venues this weekend. The venue host said that she is available to take us on a tour of the first venue anytime from 4-8PM on Friday, so please let me know what time works for you and I will send you further details.

Sincerely,

Kim Junmyeon

\---

Hi Junmyeon,

I have something to do after school on friday, so is 6pm ok? Here’s my phone number, text me:) 02-099-761

\- Yifan

  
  
  


“Oh my god,” Junmyeon barely contained himself from squealing, and Luhan looked up from peeking at Junmyeon’s screen over his shoulder to smirk at him all-knowingly.

“Yuck. You sound like a sixty year old businessman with a giant cactus stuck up his ass,” he scowled, and then a beat later, “you totally like him.” Junmyeon stuffed his phone back into his backpack, schooling his expression into a rather terrible attempt at nonchalance.

“No,” Junmyeon said, intently focused on his portion of grilled mackerel, “I’m just glad that he’s finally pulling his weight.”

“Sureeee, Mr. Tomato face,” Luhan said around another bite of rolled omelette, bursting into laughter at his own lame joke. To think that Junmyeon had once thought that he was a kind, innocent creature— Luhan was a prime example of how looks could be deceiving. Still, he was _sometimes_ caring and sweet to his friends— when he wasn’t busy teasing them, that was.

Jongin had since put his laptop away, apparently having given up on his university application essays for the time being in favor of consuming as much food in as short of a time frame as possible. “Let us know if you want someone to go with you if he doesn’t show up,” he offered, and Junmyeon responded with a grin at the sight of his strawberry milk mustache.

“Don’t worry, he actually responded this time! There’s no way that he won’t show up...”

Luhan huffed dubiously.

“...right?” he trailed off weakly, and Jongin eyed him consolingly before offering him the remainder of his carton of strawberry milk.

“You need it more than I do,” he said seriously, and Junmyeon wished that the approximately five drops of artificial pink substance that remained in the carton would be enough to solve his problems.

✳✲✳

5:58PM that Friday found him standing in the lobby of the venue, Yifan nowhere in sight. He stole another glance at his phone screen, and nope, no new notifications. His host, a lady who had introduced herself as Yuri, was standing patiently to the side, and Junmyeon flashed her an apologetic cross between a smile and a grimace.

“We can just get started,” he eventually decided, turning his ringer off and following Yuri’s path through the foyer. His friends were right, and he knew that he was foolish for expecting anything from Yifan at all, but agreeing on a time and then bailing was a new low. He pulled a notebook out of his messenger bag and began to jot venue details down on a blank page, plastering a practiced customer-service smile on his face.

The venue was a little pricey, and he knew that his club members would rather not have to put on another fundraiser to cover the cost after the disaster of their last candy gram fundraiser, when an anonymous someone had purchased their entire stock for a certain Byun Baekhyun. The location itself wasn’t too ideal, either— he’d had to walk fifteen minutes from the nearest subway station in the cold. Nonetheless, he thanked Yuri with a bow and zipped his parka up once the tour had concluded, bracing himself to face the snow that had since thickly blanketed the streets, the yellow glow of the street lights bathing the evening with dreamlike glow.

When he stepped out of the lobby, he was surprised to see a familiar figure making his way towards him, dressed in a long black double-breasted coat and a matching turtleneck sweater. Junmyeon felt his pulse suddenly spike and he briefly panicked, dusting non-existent lint off of the sleeves of his winter coat and considering acting as if he hadn’t seen the other boy at all. But then Yifan’s magnetizing gaze connected with his, and Junmyeon found that he couldn’t quite look away.

“Hi,” Yifan eventually said, his breath misting in the cold air.

“Hi, Yifan. It’s almost 7,” Junmyeon replied, trying not to let his annoyance seep into his voice.

“I’m sorry, I was busy,” Yifan mumbled, suddenly very interested in the pattern of the stone tile beneath his feet. “I would have texted you, but my phone died.”

Yifan didn’t owe him an explanation, and Junmyeon didn’t pry. Still, in the back of his mind, it felt like a painful reminder of how Yifan put so little stake into the student council, leaving Junmyeon to shoulder the burden on his own while he was doing god knows what. In the past few months he’d been cramming for the _suneung_ , and even then, he had made sure that he wasn’t neglecting his duties as the co-president. Meanwhile, he had heard Yifan joking with his friends that he was exclusively applying to colleges abroad and didn’t need to take the _suneung_ at all, to which Junmyeon wanted to shriek THEN DO SOMETHING USEFUL FOR ONCE YOU LAZY CREATURE!

Still, he had always believed that people deserve second chances, so he continued to be kind to Yifan and to forgive him for scarcely ever completing his assignments. Even though admittedly sometimes he wanted to accept Luhan’s offer of slapping some sense into the tall, gangly boy.

“It seems like you’re busy all the time,” Junmyeon said lightly, his passive-aggression barely masked by a tight grin. Yifan stared back at him, seemingly unable to formulate a reply, and Junmyeon tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” he said, hating himself for still being so hopeful. But he thought that he could allow himself to indulge in a silly high school crush, because after winter break, there were just two months of school left before graduation, and then he would be moving on the next stage of his life. No more student council, no more assignments, and no more Yifan. The thought was bittersweet.

His words hung in the cold air without reply, and he tried to hide his disappointment when he turned to continue his journey back to the subway station. “Wait,” Yifan suddenly called out, causing him to pause in his tracks. “Are you walking to the subway station?”

Junmyeon merely nodded, bewildered.

“Can I come with you?” Yifan asked, and Junmyeon couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, warming his freezing cheeks that were dusted pink from the cold.

The silence between them was rather awkward, but Junyeon found that he didn’t mind the rhythmic crunch of Yifan’s winter boots in the fresh snow. They passed by a little dalgona booth, where Yifan purchased two of the caramel candies with heart shapes pressed into them, offering one to Junmyeon with a gummy smile. The walk felt much shorter with company, and soon the two were pressed against each other in a cramped subway car. Junmyeon tried to create some semblance of space between them, but an influx of business people travelling home from work gave Junmyeon no choice but to press against Yifan’s chest.

“Sorry,” he spoke quietly into the taller boy’s ear, trying to be heard above the clamour in the cabin. Yifan only shook his head, smiling, and carefully reached out to grip Junmyeon’s shoulder to keep him from losing his balance from the jerking of the subway car.

He heard Yifan clear his throat, and he tilted his head to look up at him, nodding slightly to let him know that he was listening.

“I’m sorry,” Yifan said, struggling to maintain eye contact. “I know that I’ve been, well, useless since the beginning of the year, and that you had to work twice as hard to pick up my slack. It’s just…”

Yifan shifted in his place, as if unable to decide what to say.

“You don’t need to explain,” Junmyeon interjected calmly. It was more than he was expecting for Yifan to apologise, and Junmyeon tried to feign nonchalance as he turned away to check the subway map, noting that his stop was a few minutes away. 

“No,” Yifan persisted, “it’s not fair to you at all.” He looked as if he wanted to continue, but Junmyeon simply nodded appreciatively.

“If you’re free, can you come to tomorrow’s appointment? It's at 2PM, and the venue’s right next to a subway station this time.”

Yifan looked more resolute, his gaze hard and determined. “2PM. I’ll see you there… and I won’t make you wait this time.”

The automated voice announced the upcoming stop as Gangnam-gu, and Junmyeon exited the train, turning to wave goodbye and pleased by the gummy grin on Yifan’s usually expressionless face.

So maybe the venue visit didn’t go so poorly after all.

✳✲✳

The next morning, Junmyeon invited Luhan and Minseok over to his house to work on the social studies project that they had been assigned. Sure, it wasn’t due for another month, but Junmyeon preferred to get tasks done early, and he always liked to spend time with his friends. He had met Minseok years ago through the student council, in which he was the treasurer, and they had quickly bonded over countless hours spent creating and editing budget spreadsheets for the various events that the club put on. During a typical work session/get together, Junmyeon anticipated 50% working, 30% snacking, and 20% idle chatting, but this time, what he got instead was some sort of staged intervention.

“You are _such a pushover_ ,” Minseok enunciated judgingly, and Junmyeon couldn’t help but pout slightly as he looked up from his half-finished powerpoint slide on the meaning of bee breakdancing. “You think Yifan’s suddenly going to change now?”

“Well, maybe,” Junmyeon said thoughtfully, slouching onto his desk while gently petting Byul, his dog, who was peacefully drooling away on his lap.

“He’s a lazy sloth,” Luhan agreed through a mouthful of shrimp crackers, and Minseok winced when crumbs sprayed onto the pristine white carpet lining the floor of Junmyeon’s room. “A love between him and a perfectionist like you would be difficult, to say the least.”

Junmyeon felt his cheeks burn, and he scrambled to squeak out some semblance of a coherent retort. “It’s not like that! I just want him as a functional co-president, that’s all. And he’s not always lazy, he’s the co-captain of the basketball team, so he must have the capacity to work hard.”

“So you admit that you _want him_ ,” Luhan teased, completely ignoring the rest of his sentence, a smirk plastered to his annoying face. Junmyeon just wanted to wrap himself in his comforter like a blanket burrito and disappear.

Minseok was suspiciously silent for a moment before he sat up from where he was splayed out on the floor next to Junmyeon’s bed. He had that look on his face that screamed _try me, bitch_ , the same look that rarely failed to get him what he wanted, which made him an excellent salesman when trying to get his classmates to buy overpriced fundraising goods.

“I’m going with you,” he said decisively, before going back to googling images to add to the slideshow presentation.

“Uh, aren’t you busy?” Junmyeon protested weakly, melting like a popsicle in a microwave under Minseok’s unwavering stare. “With, uh, university applications and stuff?”

“Myeonnie, applications were due last month.”

“Oh… really?” He barked out a dry laugh, causing Luhan and Minseok to share an exasperated look.

“If I recall correctly, you were the one who stayed up all night panicking that you applied with the wrong name or something the night that they were due. Who told you to come up with an alter ego, anyways?”

Junmyeon grew indigent at that. “I thought that the name Suho sounded cool.”

“Just you, Junmyeon, just you.”

Junmyeon fought back a frown and settled for poking Luhan with a socked foot. “Seriously, Minseok, you don’t have to come, I know that you’ve been tired from football practice lately.”

“Not too tired to spend time with you,” Minseok protested, and Junmyeon snickered when his sentence was punctuated by a giant yawn. 

“We have practice today at 3,” Luhan reminded him, and Minseok collapsed into a puddle on the floor, grumbling about neverending push ups and laps and Luhan “abusing his power as team captain.” “Maybe Jongin can go with you?”

Junmyeon shook his head. “He doesn’t need to come with me. I’ll be fine, whether Yifan shows up or not,” he reassured, not entirely sure if his words were directed towards his friends or himself. “I’m not expecting him to show up at all, so I won’t be disappointed.” A blatant lie, and from the way Minseok narrowed his eyes, he obviously knew that Junmyeon was nowhere near as unaffected as he tried to pretend.

“Okay,” Minseok said, still unconvinced. “Let us know how it goes?”

Junmyeon only nodded, smothering his face in his dog’s fur. 

“If Yifan doesn’t show up _again_ , tell him that I’m always ready to kick a bitch,” Luhan said positively devilishly. “I’m sure that football cleats will do an adequate amount of damage.”

Minseok and Junmyeon shared a scandalized look, and Junmyeon made a mental note to pencil in an intervention for Luhan on his planner somewhere between Monday’s choir class and the weekly student council meeting.

“Luhan, please don’t get expelled for violence two months away from graduation.”

“Okay,” Luhan said contemplatively. “I’ll wreck him _after_ graduation.”

“That’s as good as it’s going to get,” Minseok acquiesced, nodding sagely. Junmyeon interrupted their debate on which pair of football cleats would deal the greatest amount of damage by urging the pair to work on the presentation, wincing when Luhan cackled while spamming the slideshow with Bee Movie memes. 2PM couldn’t come fast enough.

✳✲✳

Junmyeon stepped out of the shelter of the subway station, digging his chin into the polka-dotted blue wool scarf wrapped around his neck. _City Lights_ , today’s prospective formal venue, was a blessed few minutes walk away, and Junmyeon let the soft pop music playing through his earphones lull him into a sense of calm. He could picture it already— he’d arrive at the venue, Yifan wouldn’t be there, and he would go through the tour on his own, take notes, and report back to the dance planning committee. And it was fine that way, he convinced himself. He could do the work on his own, no problem.

But maybe he wanted things to be more than fine, another voice piped up insistently. Yifan was cute, there was no denying that, but at the most basic level, Junmyeon just wanted to get to know him better. His co-president obviously had some reason that he had showed up late yesterday, since he had felt bad enough to apologise. He didn’t think that Yifan was a bad person— he didn’t know him well enough to make any sort of judgement on his character, a thought that involuntarily caused a tiny frown to play at his lips.

And Yifan seemed sincere when he had promised to show up this time. If he failed to appear again, Junmyeon felt as if it might be time for him to confront his co-president about how he was as flaky as a butter biscuit from his favorite café in Myeongdong. 

“Junmyeon?” Yifan called, and Junmyeon’s head snapped up in surprise. The taller boy stood near the door of a tall building, dressed in a long wool coat, the tip of his nose pink from the cold. _Ah, the sacrifices of fashion_ , Junmyeon thought amusedly, not regretting putting on the thick beanie with a comically large pom pom on the end that was currently keeping him warm.

He felt a little thrill tingle through his fingertips at the fact that not only had Yifan shown up— he had actually been early this time. Sure, the bar of his expectations was practically on the floor, but his apprehensions were thawed by Yifan’s enthusiasm as he bounded up to meet him.

“You’re early this time,” Junmyeon breathed, and Yifan grinned shyly at that, extending an arm to offer Junmyeon a paper bag from Dunkin Donuts. A curious peek inside made Junmyeon salivate at the sight of olive chewisty donuts— his absolute favorite pick-me-up after a long day.

“I asked Luhan about what you liked,” Yifan explained. “He said something about beating me up after graduation if I got it wrong, so I hope you like it?”

“I do,” Junmyeon said, smiling as he tucked the donuts into his messenger pouch while mentally making a note to remind Luhan not to murder Yifan (just yet). “Thank you, Yifan. Oh, let’s go inside, you must be cold.”

This venue was at the top of his shortlist because of its convenience and its affordable pricing, meaning that more of the budget could be spent on purchasing more expensive decorations fitting to the theme that the committee had decided on— winter wonderland. He personally thought that the theme was a little cliché, but there was nothing wrong with that, he supposed, as long as the students enjoyed themselves at the dance. Luhan had been begging for a giant inflatable decoration of sorts for a while now, and he had seen an inflatable snowman on a website online that looked promising.

The entrance to the venue was a dim hallway that opened up to a large space that looked like a giant dance floor, a small podium for the DJ on the opposite side of the room and a drink bar lined with an array of stools. A staircase led to a balcony that overlooked the dance floor, the second story spacious enough to house multiple tables and chairs draped with black table cloths.

“What’s behind that curtain?” Yifan asked, pointing towards one side of the room in which giant, black floor-to-ceiling curtains acted as a wall to cordon off the space.

“It’s just another area,” Sooyoung, the tourwoman, said, and the knowing grin on her face made Junmyeon feel a little uneasy. She strode over to a panel near the curtains and pressed a button, which revealed a space about the same size as the dance floor, full of dark velvet lounge chaises and—

“Are those poles?” Junmyeon blurted out, his surprise evident in the way that his eyes rounded. Because spanning the entire impressive length from the ceiling to the floor were stripper poles, and oh god, he didn’t even want to imagine what kind of substances were caked into the fabric of the furniture.

Sooyoung only nodded calmly, seemingly unaffected by Junmyeon’s embarrassment. “This part of our venue is usually used for club nights, and we wouldn’t rent this part out to high schoolers. It’s mostly for our older patrons.”

“Oh,” Junmyeon heard himself say.

“Take some time to think it over, and let me know if you have any questions about the contract.” Sooyoung handed him a few sheets of paper and a pen, her heels clicking as she strode across the room. “I have to take a quick call, I’ll be by the front door.”

Junmyeon glanced at the contract in his hand, mentally weighing the pros and cons. He had to make a decision within a few days, because many of the venues in the area were getting booked up as the days were drawing closer to the planned date of the event.

He felt someone coming up behind him, and startled when Yifan leaned over his shoulder to peer at the contract. “What do you think of the venue?” he asked, and Junmyeon pushed his thoughts about Yifan’s sinfully tight skinny jeans (did he not get _cold?_ ) to the back of his mind and methodologically analysed his page of notes before responding.

“The location is great, and the price is good, too. They said that the drink bar is included, which means unlimited soda, but,” he wrinkled his nose, “that also means a lot more spilled drinks to clean up.”

“I don’t know much about what makes a good dance venue,” Yifan admitted, “but I think that the students would have fun here. The balcony’s pretty cool, and I don’t think the whole hidden stripper club thing is an issue. No one has to know about it,” he said, smiling lopsidedly.

Junmyeon skimmed through the information on the contract, looking for anything that said _I hereby sign over my soul_ in the fine print. His eyes landed on the blank line for his signature, and he suddenly felt a ball of nervousness tighten in his chest. What if this wasn’t the right venue, after all? What if someone got drunk off of spiked jungle juice and started a strip show in the secret space behind the curtain? Oh god, he could get arrested for enabling an underage strip show if dollar bills got involved, and the thought of a permanent criminal record and potential expulsion made him sweat.

“I think I have to talk to the rest of the student council members first.” He procured his phone from his pocket, and immediately began to tap out the beginnings of a lengthy, stress-ridden message to the dance committee group chat.

He then felt Yifan’s hand hovering over his shoulder, before decisively resting on it in a somewhat awkward show of comfort. “Have some faith in yourself, Junmyeon. You’ve basically been running this club on your own, and you don’t need everyone to agree with you when you know what’s best.”

Junmyeon put his phone away and leaned into the touch with a sigh, drawing back when he felt Yifan flinch in surprise. “But I always think that it’s important to listen to other people, because what if I get it wrong?”

“Everyone’s wrong sometimes,” Yifan shrugged, his hands now firmly tucked into his pockets. “But we all know how capable you are, I just wish you could see it yourself. You don’t need me or anyone else to tell you that, because it’s true.”

Junmyeon felt so, so exposed, like Yifan had carefully analysed his behaviours and processed them through a machine that revealed his innermost thoughts and insecurities. He supposed that he had always been this way, having grown up knowing that he was the heir to a large conglomerate, the burden weighing heavily on his young shoulders and leading him to constantly question his own instincts.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Yifan apologised, noticing how Junmyeon had tensed up. Junmyeon only shook his head, taking a deep breath and pressing the tip of his pen to the paper, signing his name on the dotted line with a flourish.

He neatly organised the pages of the contract, skimming his fingers over the neat edges of the papers. “No, thank you, Yifan. I know that I need to work on it,” he said, his voice strengthening, “and… I’m trying.”

“You’re doing a great job so far,” the taller boy said quietly, and Junmyeon felt himself squirm under the weight of his sincerity. “There are a lot of things that I’m trying to work on, too. I’m sorry that I was late yesterday, and for not really explaining why.”

Junmyeon peered up at him expectantly, hundreds of possible scenarios running through his brain. Maybe Luhan was right and Yifan was the son of a mobster, or like Jongin had suggested, Yifan had just been too immersed in the deliciousness of his chicken dinner that he had forgotten about their appointment entirely.

“I moved. Well,” he added more reluctantly in response to Junmyeon’s questioning expression, “it’s… more than that. My parents separated a few months ago, and it’s been kind of hard to focus on anything, and I’ve spent most of my time relaxing through basketball and not doing the things that I should be doing, like my homework, and helping you. The divorce just got finalized yesterday, so I was helping my mom move out, and I kind of lost track of time.” 

Then it was Junmyeon’s turn to tentatively place a hand on Yifan’s shoulder, the material of his coat soft under his palm. “Want to talk about it? I know it’s the middle of the afternoon, but we can go get a snack?”

He felt Yifan relax, and an easygoing smile returned to his face. “You know, you shouldn’t be so nice to me. All I’ve done so far is ignore my responsibilities and act like I’d rather change my name to Kevin or Kris or something than actually help out for once.”

“As an apology for the sleepless nights I’ve had to endure on your behalf, you can pay for lunch. Sushi?”

Yifan rolled his eyes mockingly, smiling all the while. Junmyeon could hardly suppress his giggle.

“Anything for you. You choose the place.”

✳✲✳

  
  


Wednesday lunch period meant student council meetings, and Junmyeon quickly dropped his physics textbook off at his locker before making his way to the clubroom. He passed Jongin and Luhan heading towards the cafeteria on his way over, too immersed in their own bubble of conversation to notice his presence. By the looks of Jongin’s violent blush, Luhan was probably teasing the other boy again, likely about a certain Do Kyungsoo. Rather rich of him, as Junmyeon had seen the Chinese transfer student sneaking glances at a gangly noodle-like boy during that morning’s winter assembly. He made a mental note to save that information just in case blackmail material was needed anytime in the future.

Minseok waved at him from the doorway of the chemistry classroom, walking over to continue towards the meeting room with him. “Well, it seems like the venue visit went well,” Minseok commented, and Junmyeon immediately reddened when he was reminded of the time that he had spent with Yifan. Just a friendly outing, he reminded himself. Most definitely not a date. Their meal was much more pleasant than he had been expecting, and after they had overcome the initial awkwardness, conversation had felt as easy as the bubbly feeling of ramune as it fizzled down his throat. They had promised to meet again, and Junmyeon thought that Yifan would make an excellent friend. (Maybe he wouldn’t mind him being more than that, not that he would ever admit that to his friends. As if they didn’t know already.)

Junmyeon chose to nod in agreement, fiddling with the straps of his backpack. “We signed the contract already, which means that all we have to do now is figure out the decor. Yerim said that she already booked the DJ and the photobooth, and, oh! There was this inflatable snowman that Luhan thought was cute. We can probably rent it for the event, but I think that the site that I saw it on was kind of shady.”

Minseok rolled his eyes, elbowing Junmyeon gently. “That’s not what I was talking about.”

“... the catering?” Junmyeon supplied weakly.

“No, your co-president,” Minseok said flatly. “I can’t believe that he actually showed up.”

“I’m glad that I didn’t give up on him. He said that he would try to be more helpful, and he helped me prepare the notes for today’s meeting,” Junmyeon said, gently pushing open the door to the club room. “And—”

“Hi Junmyeon, Minseok,” Yifan greeted from where he was sitting by the projector at the front of the classroom. Junmyeon barely repressed his laugh at Minseok’s shock that Yifan had arrived to the meeting _early_ , and instead waved at Yifan and moved to plug his laptop into the projector. To his surprise, there was already a Lenovo laptop connected to the cord, and Yifan quickly strode over to the podium to start the presentation.

“Don’t worry, Junmyeon. I got this,” he said, shooting him a greasy wink that had Minseok choking on his _kimbap_ roll. 

And by the end of the meeting even Minseok had to grudgingly admit that Yifan indeed had it all under control, the powerpoint smoothly ending with an animated gif of an adorable cartoon bunny that he had apparently drawn himself. (“I am something of an artist, you know,” Yifan said proudly to his fawning audience.) When the club members had filtered out of the room for their next classes, Junmyeon impulsively pulled Yifan into a tight hug, reveling in the warmth of the long arms that came to wrap around his waist. Maybe this wasn’t exactly what he had signed up for when he had taken up the position, but he was glad that he and Yifan were now truly both co-presidents and friends. And from Yifan’s reluctance to release him from his hold, merely laughing at Junmyeon’s insistence that “I have to go to history class, not all of us have long legs like you, I can’t sprint up 10 flights of stairs in three minutes!” maybe there was something more there, too.

✳✲✳

“Fifteen strings of white fairy lights, five bags of snowflake confetti— Yifan, are you listening?” Junmyeon pouted, smacking the taller boy’s arm and startling him in the midst of placing a green santa hat on his head.

“Yes,” Yifan lied through his teeth, grinning dopily and reaching out to adjust the positioning of the hat on Junmyeon’s head, gently patting down his fluffy fringe. Junmyeon only huffed in response, unable to fight back an amused smile.

It was currently winter break, and the pair were wandering around a craft store to purchase some of the decorations for the dance. Yifan, however, seemed more interested in putting Santa hats and reindeer antlers on Junmyeon’s head, and he had long since stopped resisting, accepting his fate of looking like one of Santa's rejected elves.

Junmyeon strolled purposefully down an aisle and reached on his tippy-toes to the uppermost shelf for a package of snowflake decals dusted with silver glitter, thinking that they would look great arranged in a cascade on the wall near the venue’s staircase.

“Yifan, could you—Yifan?” he peeked over his shoulder to ask his boyfriend to put his height to good use, but began to feel worried when he saw that the taller boy was no longer trailing behind him.

He suddenly saw the very boy that he had been looking for peek out of a neighboring aisle, and let out a sigh of mingling relief and exasperation. Maybe his birth certificate stated that Wu Yifan was eighteen, corroborated by how he came off as being very aloof to strangers, but most days, Junmyeon thought that his playful nature meant that he would fit right in at the local middle school. It was strange to think that they would both be college students in a few months— he felt his stomach twist when remembering that university application decisions were to be released soon, and then clench uncomfortably at the thought that after going off to university (assuming he was admitted _somewhere_ ) it would probably be a long time before he would see any of his friends again, and before he would be able to spend time with Yifan like this. He had grown undeniably fond of his gummy smile. 

But the smile that Yifan was sporting right now as he walked towards him was different, tight and faltering, as if he had something troubling on his mind. Junmyeon hoped that it wasn’t anything serious.

“You called?” Yifan asked stiffly before Junmyeon could ask him what was wrong. He silently pointed up at the silver snowflake decals, and quietly admired Yifan’s lengthy limbs that he secretly thought made anything he wore look designer. He made even the fuzzy beanie with a giant pom pom on the end that Junmyeon had bought him as a couple hat look fit to be on a magazine spread, and Junmyeon was delighted that Yifan apparently liked enough to incorporate into his regular wardrobe.

Then Yifan was pressing the package of decals into his hand, and along with it, a lavender colored envelope sealed closed with a heart sticker. He looked up at Yifan curiously, but the other boy only shyly ducked his head, seemingly trying to avoid eye contact.

“It’s for you,” he mumbled, and Junmyeon carefully unsealed the envelope, only to be met with an adorable drawing of two bunnies sitting on a moonlit hill together, the stars connected into a constellation in the shape of a heart above them. The inside of the card was simple, consisting of only one line of text: “Junmyeon, I really like you. Will you go to formal with me?”

Junmyeon blinked at the card for a few long moments, before a delighted smile broke out on his face and he lunged to pull Yifan into a hug. The taller boy’s heart was thudding rapidly through the thick fabric of his knit sweater, and Junmyeon held him tighter when he felt him let out a long, content sigh.

“Is that a yes?” Yifan asked nervously once they had left the store, cocking his head as he held a bag of their purchases in one hand, his other lightly brushing against the back of Junmyeon’s palm.

“To what? Formal or being your boyfriend?”

Yifan’s smile faded at that, and he suddenly appeared to be much more unsure of himself. “Both? Whatever you want,” he said carefully, looking towards Junmyeon hopefully as they waited by the sidewalk for the pedestrian light to turn green.

Junmyeon reached over to link their hands together, letting himself melt into Yifan’s side, the taller boy’s arm immediately extending to snake around his waist. “I like you, too,” he said, “and I would love to go to formal with you, boyfriend.” The word felt foreign and strange rolling off of his tongue, but then Yifan leaned down to press a fleeting kiss to his cheek, and Junmyeon was certain that it would soon become one of his favorite words in his vocabulary.

“You’re amazing, Junmyeon,” Yifan said, tugging him across the crosswalk once the light had turned green, “but you don’t need to hear it from me. You’re smart and capable and gorgeous all on your own. Still,” he added cheekily, “I’ll tell you all of that every day if you want me to.”

“I never would have thought you were so cheesy,” Junmyeon laughed.

Yifan’s lips parted to form the lopsided grin that he loved so much. “Only for you.”

Snowflakes began to drift down from the sky to land on Yifan’s giant pom pom and the new hideous lime green Santa hat that he had bought for Junmyeon, and all of a sudden, everything felt magical, as if enchanted under a spell that would soon lift and leave everything to spiral back into place.

But Junmyeon didn’t want it to end. He supposed that high school was like a trance in a way that the school acted like a bubble, full of exams and petty squabbles, shielding him from the outside world and impending adulthood. The bubble had to burst sooner or later, just as the light shower of snowflakes would cease and fluffy blankets of snow would melt into puddles of sludge that would give life to the flowers of spring.

He gripped Yifan’s hand tighter in his.

He would be more than just fine. He didn’t need anyone to tell him so— the truth was in the life thrumming through his veins, in every sip of his daily cup of caffé latte, in the snowflakes that dissolved from the warmth of his tongue and the way that Yifan beamed down at him, lacing their fingers tightly together.

“Where to?” Yifan asked, swinging their hands between them with every step.

“Lunch?” Junmyeon suggested hopefully, the chill in the air making him think that a bowl of spicy rice cakes at a nearby _pojangmacha_ , a tiny tent on the side of the road, sounded extremely appealing. 

“That’s not going to keep us out of the cold,” Yifan said dubiously, his ears then pinking beneath his beanie when Junmyeon simply wrapped his thick polka-dotted scarf around his neck, hardly even thinking to complain about his carefully put together outfit being transformed into something that resembled what the neighbourhood aunties would wear. Junmyeon thought that he looked cute like this, anyways, all soft edges and warm smiles. 

“I’ll be fine anywhere, as long as it’s with you,” Junmyeon said sweetly, causing Yifan to fluster and mumble _who’s the cheesy one now_ ? But then they were sharing a bowl of fish cakes and _ddeokbokki_ while listening to the sound of cars whizzing by on the road outside, and Junmyeon thought that as much as he wanted to immortalize the moment, it was okay if the snowflakes melted and the winter gave way to spring. He leaned over to wipe a drop of sauce off of Yifan’s lip and felt a fuzzy feeling bloom in his chest, earnestly hoping that even with the constant changing of seasons, certain things would always stay the same. 

✳✲✳

Group chat “Besties :D”: Jongin 🧸🐶, Kim Junmyeon, 😎MANhan⚽

**Jongin 🧸🐶**

hey guys wanna go to the arcade tonight? we have to celebrate getting into university!! and we’ll all be so far apart next year :(

**😎MANhan⚽**

woW thanks for finally remembering to spend time with us, your best friends

**Jongin 🧸🐶**

:’(

i still love u guys

**😎MANhan⚽**

Love you too Jongin

Don’t tell Kyungsoo about this

**Jongin 🧸🐶**

lol he’d understand

just cuz we’re in relationships doesn’t mean that we can’t still be friends :D

**😎MANhan⚽**

Okie fair point

So dinner and arcade at 6?

I was gonna ask Sehun to go to ksoo’s fam’s café w/ me but I’ll just ask him another time

**Jongin 🧸🐶**

wow luhan such an amazing friend :’)

**😎MANhan⚽**

I can’t help my awesomeness **😎**

You free too myeonnie? Please don’t tell me that you have another “student council meeting” with Yifan

**Kim Junmyeon**

I can’t :’(

I have to go to a board meeting at the company

 _Three hours_ of listening to old men argue about numbers please save me

**😎MANhan⚽**

Aww I’m sorry :( Call us after ok?

**Jongin 🧸🐶**

good luck <3

  
  
  


Junmyeon clicked his phone off with a sigh, looking out at the buildings flying by outside of the window of his family’s sleek black sedan. His father’s driver, Mr. Kang, glanced at him through the rearview mirror from the driver’s seat, and Junmyeon quickly downed the remainder of the café latte that he had packed in his thermos that morning.

He had been to his family’s company headquarters countless times, shadowing his dad, attending company functions, or doing homework assignments in his father’s office in his younger years. He generally enjoyed it, though he always felt pressured to keep his back ramrod straight, a pleasant smile plastered to his face, religiously taking notes and trying his best not to make a mistake for fear of appearing incompetent. He was expected to continue the family business, after all, and even though his inheritance of the company was through nothing more than an act of shameless nepotism, he was determined to prove that he had what it took to be a good businessman.

As EXO corporations, a collection of towering glass buildings that glinted under the afternoon sunlight, appeared in the distance, Junmyeon thanked Mr. Kang and hugged his briefcase to his chest, stepping out of the car with a quiet sigh. Today was the quarterly board meeting, during which Junmyeon always tried to pay attention for three hours straight while fending off the judging stares of the board members, either doubting his ability to not blow their investment money on a frivolous addition to the building— like a 16-hole golf course or an outdoor pool (though he _had_ been thinking that a smoothie bar would be a great addition to the fitness spa)— or were planning on somehow getting him to marry their children to ensure their control in the company. There was also a particularly creepy man that Junmyeon was almost 100% sure was secretly plotting to kill him, and he reminded himself not to accept any suspicious looking drinks that he was offered.

He nodded politely at the employees in the elevator, trying his best to ignore their hushed whispering and giggles upon recognizing him once he had pressed the button to the uppermost floor in the building, his father’s office.

“Hi, Joohyun,” he greeted his father’s secretary, who glanced up from the mountain of paperwork piled on her desk to wave at him. “Is my dad here?”

“He should be getting ready for the board meeting, go right in.” She gestured towards the pair of ceiling-high mahogany doors, and Junmyeon didn’t bother knocking before pushing the door open.

His father was sitting at his desk, the floor-to-ceiling glass windows presenting a bird’s eye view of the city down below. Upon noticing Junmyeon, he immediately sprang to his feet, folding his reading glasses up and placing them on top of the report that he had been studying.

“Congratulations,” he exclaimed, crossing the room in long strides and pulling Junmyeon into a hug. He let himself relax in his father’s embrace, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of his cologne.

“Thanks, dad,” Junmyeon said, pulling away to look at his father mirthfully. “You already told me that at least twenty times over the phone, though.”

“You know I would have been proud of you even if you hadn’t been accepted, but I know how hard you worked— how hard you are working. Maybe I’m a touch biased, but I think that you deserved it more than anyone I know.”

Junmyeon felt tears well up in his eyes again, like how he hadn’t been able to stop himself from bursting into happy tears for the first time when he had checked his application status with Jongin and Luhan a few hours ago. “I did get into Korea University too, so I could choose to go there instead,” he joked. 

To his surprise, his father’s expression grew serious as he replied, “if that’s what you want, that’s fine, too. You don’t have to have a degree from a certain brand-name university to do great things in life.” His family had attended Seoul University for countless generations, and he had felt anxious all day when thinking about being the first person to break the streak by receiving a dreaded rejection letter. Kind of like how Jongin would freak out that he “broke his streak” by forgetting to log in daily to some online kids game that Luhan loved to tease him about— Animal Jam?— and wouldn’t be able to collect the day’s “ultra rare item.” (Junmyeon had seen Luhan playing the same game during computer class, so he didn’t know who he was kidding.)

He had learned that the business world was just as full of sharks as Volusia, Florida, aka Shark Bite Capital of the World ™ , but at least he knew that his dad would always be there to support him.

Along with a copy of the quarterly report, his father passed him a box of a dozen olive chewisty donuts that they shared over a video call with his mother, who was currently abroad checking on the Kyoto branch of their company. His father left a few minutes early to set up for the meeting, leaving him to leisurely finish the last few sips of his latte on his own. When he headed to the conference room, he was comfortably full, quickly scanning over his copy of the report in preparation when he felt himself collide with someone, his report flying up into the air. Thank goodness he had stapled the fifty-or-so pages together, or he had no idea how long it would have taken him to sort the pages back into the correct order.

He opened his mouth, prepared to form an apology, when he looked up and met eyes with a familiar face. “Yifan?” he gasped, the taller boy looking just as surprised before crouching down to retrieve his report and pressing it into his hands.

“Hi,” he grinned, and Junmyeon thought that he looked gorgeous in his classic black suit, a skinny tie pressed down the middle of his white dress shirt and a visitor pass hanging on a lanyard around his neck. “I like the suit look.”

“Says you,” Junmyeon said, stopping himself from reaching up to ruin Yifan’s perfectly gelled hair. “What are you doing here?”

“Shadowing my dad for some board meeting,” Yifan grumbled unhappily, causing Junmyeon to let out a laugh. So Yifan’s dad was one of the board members, then— hopefully he wasn’t the one that wanted to murder him, though it hurt to think that none of them liked him much to begin with. So much for his fantasy of having in-laws who he got along with, though he supposed if Yifan’s father was the _please marry my child_ type, he’d be more than pleased by their relationship. _Thinking about marrying him already?_ a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Luhan’s teased, and Junmyeon quickly dismissed his train of thought. “What about you?” Yifan questioned, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Same reason,” Junmyeon half-shrugged, tugging lightly on the sleeve of Yifan’s suit jacket. “Let’s go, we don’t want to be late!”

By the time that they made it to the conference room the seats were half full, and Junmyeon sat down in a chair on the long rectangular table near the back of the room. Yifan nodded at someone who he assumed was his dad, and Junmyeon was relieved to see that he wasn’t the board member who seemed as if he always had murder on his mind ( _his_ murder, specifically).

The last few board members trickled in and Junmyeon tried to make himself comfortable in his seat, focusing on the beginning of the presentation and most definitely not on Yifan’s distracting presence directly to his left.

He was jotting down the figures for the number of sales of their new microwave oven when out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yifan scooch his chair closer to him, then lean over to scribble something on the edge of his notepad.

_Hangman time!_ He scrawled in his chicken scratch handwriting, and Junmyeon couldn’t help the smile that blossomed on his face. He quickly glanced back up at the projector screen, schooling his expression to what he hoped looked serious and not _at all_ like he was planning on playing games during the meeting. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had paid anything but 100% of his attention during these god awful presentations, so he thought that he could get away with taking a little break this time. (Okay, maybe there was also the time that Jongin had texted him in the middle of a mental breakdown because Jjangu had gobbled down an entire package of dried mangoes, and Junmyeon had to text him PetMD articles from under the table.)

They went through more than five rounds of hangman by the time the first break was called, always making sure to only play at moments when they were sure that no one was paying them any attention. Junmyeon thought that that was the fastest that an hour had ever flown by in the stuffy conference room, and even though his notepad had but a few lines of actual notes neatly written onto it, he didn’t regret indulging in his little distraction. He pouted at Yifan when the taller boy triumphantly claimed his victory, drawing a little frown on the tiny hangman and completing the picture, sealing Junmyeon’s defeat.

“What was the answer?” Junmyeon asked him when they had walked to the refreshment table, picking a piece of pineapple up with a tiny fork.

Yifan’s stoic expression dissolved into a teasing grin. “Myeonniecutie,” he said shamelessly, and Junmyeon couldn’t decide whether to laugh or to hide in embarrassment. His first choice would be to jab Yifan in the side, but with their current environment, that wasn’t an option. He could imagine the headlines already— “Heir to EXO Corps SAVAGELY ATTACKS innocent.”

“That’s not even a word,” he settled for spluttering instead, to which Yifan only responded with a quick wink, his mirth vanishing at the sound of his father’s beckoning that had him quickly trotting off.

Junmyeon felt his own father’s gaze on him and looked up to see him staring at him amusedly. “You know the Wu son?” he asked, to which Junmyeon could only dumbly nod.

“I’m glad you have a friend.” He wanted to tell him that Yifan was more than that, but he was right— that Yifan was his friend just as much as he was his _boyfriend_ , someone who seemed to always be able to cheer him up and make even the most boring board meetings burst full of muffled sniggering and the dull thud of their dress shoes bumping against each other under the table.

He glanced over to see Yifan stuffing his face with chicken skewers, making Junmyeon inadvertently grin when remembering the fact that his boyfriend had previously claimed that chicken was “not his style.” _So much for that_ , he thought, amused, and thought that if all board meetings could be like this, he was already looking forward to the next one.

✳✲✳

Junmyeon eyed himself in the full-length mirror in Luhan’s walk-in closet, carefully straightening his bowtie that lay taut against the base of his neck. He had initially questioned his decision to wear a white suit, knowing that his tendency to messily spill his food could possibly stain the fabric beyond repair, but then Yifan had excitedly gone out to purchase an outlandishly expensive all-black ensemble with a matching white tie and he knew that he couldn’t go back on his word. And even he had to admit that he looked good, a patterned pocket square that his mother had gifted him tucked in his breast pocket for good luck. 

He knew that he’d be seeing his parents at the event later that night, but they had agreed to let him ride with Yifan to the venue from where he was getting ready at Luhan’s house. As graduation crept closer, and with it, the beginning of his life away from home, Junmyeon had newfound appreciation for all the little things about his family, like the way that his mother sent snack crates and souvenirs home whenever she was abroad and how his father always seemed to pick up on his nervousness on test days, making sure that he was eating properly. Still, as much as he loved his family, he thought that he was ready to begin the next chapter of his life on his own.

Or maybe not completely on his own, he amended, when he felt a bambi plushie squarely hit his backside. “I know you’re good looking, but how long are you going to stand there staring at yourself in the mirror?” Luhan called out from where he was splayed out on his bedspread, probably watching another episode of a garbage American reality TV show while he waited for Jongin to come out of the bathroom. Said boy soon emerged, nervously adjusting his blue-and-white striped dress shirt under the sleeves of his navy blue jacket.

“Stop worrying so much, Jongin,” Junmyeon sighed out, walking up to him to help press his lapels down and adjust the knot of his tie (Gucci, of course— what else could it be?). “You know Kyungsoo’s going to think you look great in whatever you wear.”

That comment made Luhan snap to attention, a devilish grin forming on his face that made Jongin attempt to hide behind Junmyeon for protection. That didn’t go so well, considering that Jongin was a good head taller than he was, but it was an admirable attempt all the same.

“I know what’ll make Kyungsoo like your outfit even more,” Luhan said, obnoxiously wiggling his eyebrows, rummaging through one of the drawers on his vanity table and producing a black, studded choker. “You too haven’t even kissed yet!” Luhan insisted at Jongin’s traumatized expression. “This can be the _little_ push that you need.”

Jongin tentatively took the choker, turning it over in his hands. Luhan reached over to clasp the accessory around his neck, letting out a pleased squeak at the sight and spinning Jongin around so he could admire himself in the mirror. “You look amazing, Jongin, I promise. You know I wouldn’t lie,” Luhan murmured, his tone significantly softer as he squeezed the taller boy’s shoulder.

“I don’t know, I kind of look like a scary guard dog or a hedgehog or something,” Jongin said nervously, turning to examine himself at various angles.

“Do you need a little more convincing?” Luhan’s smirk returned to his face. “How about we make it a bet? I bet that Minseok and Jongdae are going to the dance together, and if I’m right, you’re wearing that to go pick Kyungsoo up.”

Junmyeon tried to suppress a grin, having witnessed Minseok and Jongdae squabbling at almost every waking moment for what seemed to be the entirety of their high school careers— he wouldn’t be surprised if they had finally gotten together. Jongin, on the other hand, looked clueless, merely nodding in agreement.

In the next second, Luhan was on the phone, speaking to someone in rapid fire Mandarin, his eyes beginning to sparkle when he had heard all that he had wanted to know. “That was Yixing,” he informed them after ending the call. “According to his _very reliable sources_ , as of right now, Jongdae and Minseok are going to formal together.” He cheerfully lifted the choker from where it had been placed on his bedside table, presenting it to Jongin like it was a trophy or a one million won cash prize. Perhaps a jumbo bucket was more fitting for this particular recipient. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, but you look hot in it, Jongin. Goodbye puppy, hello guard dog.”

Jongin still looked unsure, but Junmyeon reached out to gently buckle the leather around his neck all the same. “Just wear it on the car ride over? You can take it off before getting to his house if you decide that it’s too much,” he suggested, to which Jongin agreed with a tentative smile.

Then Yifan was texting him that he was waiting downstairs, and Junmyeon glanced at himself in the mirror one last time, adjusting the way that his gelled bangs laid across his forehead. He grabbed his brown MCM backpack, waving goodbye to Luhan and Jongin and taking the elevator down to the lobby.

Yifan rolled down the window of his grey Honda Civic, and Junmyeon slid into the passenger seat beside him, taking in the taller boy’s appearance. His jet black suit looked even better in real life than it did in pictures, he thought appreciatively, fingers reaching out to stroke his white satin tie and leaning in to peck Yifan’s cheek. “Hi,” he breathed, settling down into his heated seat and laughing at how Yifan sat there blankly, awestruck. “We can go any time now,” he teased, to which Yifan snapped to attention and lightly retorted, “s’not my fault that you look _that_ good.”

Junmyeon flushed to his roots, quickly looking out of the window and idly beginning a conversation about Jongin’s choker and his obsession with fried chicken and matcha crêpe cakes. Yifan eyed him knowingly but nonetheless went along with it— but not before mumbling that Junmyeon should “learn to take compliments better because you’re gonna be hearing a lot of them.”

“Do you have any music that we can play?” Junmyeon asked, to which Yifan wordlessly unlocked his phone and clicked the Spotify app, handing it over to Junmyeon. To his delight, the first suggested playlist was the latest Red Velvet album that Junmyeon himself had been listening to on repeat since its release.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, “do you like Red Velvet?”

It was Yifan’s turn to blush, pretending to be intently focused on the road. “...uh, maybe.”

“I’m a _huge_ Red Velvet fan,” he gushed. “I tried to start a club at school, but only Luhan and Minseok were willing to join and we needed at least five members. You could’ve joined if we’d known each other better back then!”

Junmyeon excitedly clicked into the playlist, hitting shuffle and immediately beginning to sing along. Yifan began to quietly hum the melody, and Junmyeon suppressed a laugh when he realised that his boyfriend seemed to know all of the lyrics. By the time that the bridge of Happiness was playing, they were both singing— or screeching— at the top of their lungs, Junmyeon genuinely fearing that Yifan would burst a blood vessel when he attempted to hit Wendy’s high note. (Key word: _attempted._ )

They had mercifully given their vocal cords a chance to rest and were discussing whether or not Hell’s Kitchen qualified as trashy reality TV (“all that guy does is swear 20 times a minute—” “His name is gORdoN rAMsay hyung, he deserves respect”) when Junmyeon heard his phone ping in his backpack. Half expecting it to be a panicked text from Jongin, he was surprised when Yerim, the student council’s dance committee leader’s name filled the screen instead.

  
  
  


**From: Kim Yerim 🌸😉**

Uh junmyeon

We have a problem

Oh no :(

You know how you told us to get to the venue early?

Well

We got here early but someone else had the same idea

??

Some guys wearing playboy costumes LOL

They say that they also booked the venue for tonight??

And they’re not lying they have RECEIPTS

Unless they’re really good at photoshopping or something hahaha

Is Sooyoung there?

Ya but apparently she wasn’t the one who scheduled in the other group of ppl

She’s trying to contact the owner or smthin

But Seolhyun’s already getting into a fight with the guy in the playboy bunny outfit

I’m scared halp

Ok

I’m coming

“Yifan?” Junmyeon said hesitantly, looking up from his phone. Said boy slowed down at a yellow light, turning to give his attention to his boyfriend. “We’re technically early for the gala, right? Is it okay if we stop off at the formal venue first? Yerim says that there’s a group of people hosting a playboy party who claim that they booked the venue for the same time tonight.”

Yifan let out a sharp bark of laughter, shifting over to the left turn lane to take what Junmyeon hoped wasn’t an illegal u-turn. “I guess you were right to be worried about the pole dancing,” he mused, pressing down on the accelerator. “And I’m sure that we won’t be missing out on much at that gala anyways.”

He could never have prepared himself for the sight that he was greeted with upon pulling up to _City Nights_ — a group of five men, all in around their mid-twenties, dressed in various levels of scandalizing costumes and surrounded by crates full of what looked like playboy bunny motifs among other things that Junmyeon didn’t want to think too hard about. It looked as if Yerim had gotten in on the fight, and even the usually soft-spoken Doyeon was glaring at Sooyoung, who was anxiously staring down at her phone.

Junmyeon felt his pulse rate spike when the man dressed in the playboy bunny costume turned around to pin him with a suspicious look. _I can do this_ , he told himself, thinking of this situation as a form of training that would hopefully help him with handling daunting encounters with scary business partners better in the future. Subconsciously wiping his sweaty palms on his slacks, he drew his shoulders up to his full height and put on a charming smile, extending his hand. “Hi, I’m Kim Junmyeon,” he introduced himself, grinning wider when the other man begrudgingly shook his hand.

“As you may have heard by now, it appears that we both booked the venue for tonight, and I’m sure that you and your friends have been looking forward to this event for a while now— I know that many of my classmates and I have.”

“My name’s Kibum, and yeah, I’ve been perfecting my pole dance routine for months now,” the other man grumbled. Junmyeon perked up at that, his mind already conjuring possible solutions and contacts that he could call upon. _Maybe Kibum would shut his idea down, what next?_ a tiny voice spoke in his head, and he wondered if he should consult Yerim and Yifan before making a decision. But then he thought that it couldn’t hurt to see if Kibum would even agree with his solution first, and for once, his confidence in his own judgement outweighed his fear of the numerous creative ways that he could cause the situation to go awry.

“We could split the venue then?” he suggested, motioning towards the dark curtain separating the dance floor from the room with the floor-to-ceiling poles. “We were only planning on using this side, anyways.”

Kibum seemed to mull over the idea in his head for a few long moments. “What about the music? I don’t think you kiddos want to be listening to the type of songs that we’ll be playing, and a curtain is hardly soundproof.”

“I have contacts at a nearby interior design business, so we can rent out a soundproof partition. It’s the same company that we use for our school’s band room, so it should work well for our purposes.”

“Who’s going to pay for that?”

“The venue owner, of course,” Junmyeon said without pause, sparing a glance over at Sooyoung, who was still nervously hunched over her phone. “With some negotiation, we should be getting half of our money back for the venue, too.”

Kibum suddenly began to look relieved, reaching over to clap a hand on Junmyeon’s shoulder. “I underestimated you, Junmoney. Let me know when the partition arrives and what the venue owner says. Oh, and maybe ask your friends to quit the arguing, my friends are kind of... sensitive.”

Sure enough, Yerim was smirking at a shirtless guy with a ripped six pack who had to be more than 180cm tall, but his current position of hunching over in shame seemed to make him shrink to cower in Yerim’s markedly shorter shadow.

“Okay,” Junmyeon murmured, dipping back with a brief bow to update the dance committee team and begin to make a few phone calls. Amidst the chaos, Yifan sidled up to his side unnoticed, causing Junmyeon to jump when he felt Yifan’s heavy arm sling over his shoulder. 

A few minutes later, Junmyeon let Yifan lead him back to the car in the parking lot, a pleased smile plastered on his face. “I’m proud of you,” Yifan said once the passenger door was slammed shut, reaching over to squeeze Junmyeon’s hand. “You really should trust yourself more, you handled that situation amazingly well. I don’t know how you kept a straight face when negotiating how to stop the contamination of teenagers’ minds with stripper music with a guy in a playboy bunny costume.”

“Thanks Yifan,” Junmyeon said happily, lacing their fingers together. “I know I can make good decisions, sometimes. Though there are times that I doubt my own choices, like dating you.” Yifan looked aghast, but Junmyeon paid him no mind. “According to rule number 13-c in the student council club bylaws,” he continued, “interclub relations are discouraged for interfering with the general functions of the club.”

Yifan rolled his eyes. “The last time I checked, _we’re_ the co-presidents of the club, so what do you think about revising that rule?”

“I think,” Junmyeon whispered, “I think that that sounds like a promise.” Junmyeon leaned closer to Yifan’s face and gently let their lips brush in a tentative kiss, his head spinning with the dizzying sensation and his heart feeling as if it would leap out of his chest. He leaned further over the center console, bringing his hand up to grip Yifan’s nape and tilting his head to let Yifan press more insistently against his mouth.

When they pulled apart, Junmyeon rested his head on Yifan’s shoulder, the taller boy craning down to press another kiss on his cheek. “I, really like you,” he confessed quietly, tucking a lock of his brown hair behind his ear.

Junmyeon reached out to hold Yifan’s larger hands in his, sighing contentedly as he buried his face into his boyfriend’s neck. “Goodbye student council. I think kissing you is going to be my new favourite extracurricular activity.”

✳✲✳

“And the introduction of this new branch of the company should cause interest from potential investors to go up approximately thirty-four, or... thirty-five, percent…”

“Relax, Junmyeon.” Kyungsoo’s voice rang out from his laptop, where he and the rest of his friends were watching him run through his presentation through a Skype call. “I doubt it’d be a big deal if you were off by one percentage point.”

“And you did say approximately, so technically either of those numbers work,” Jongin added helpfully, to which Sehun laughed and fervently nodded in agreement.

Junmyeon felt himself begin to smile despite himself. “What I say has to match up with the graphs on my presentation, so I have to get the numbers right. I guess I just need to practice more. This is the first time that I’ll be doing anything more than sitting at the table taking notes during a company meeting, so I really don’t want to make a mistake.”

“Ad libs are what make speeches interesting, though,” Baekhyun offered. “You did say that most of the people that you’re presenting to are old enough to be your sugar daddy, so it’s probably better that your presentation isn’t boring enough to put them into their final sleep.”

Luhan’s smirk was just as devilish through the screen as it was in person. “He doesn’t need a sugar daddy, though. He already has Yifan.”

His friends’ laughter echoed through the room, and Junmyeon didn’t even bother to formulate a reply, instead choosing to flop face down onto his thick down comforter.

“But I think that we all agree that you’ve practiced more than enough,” Luhan said once he had collected himself, his sparkling eyes seeming to bore into his soul from his laptop screen. “And I know that you don’t feel completely ready yet, but let’s be honest, you probably never will. But that’s okay too, right? Remember how you were spasming over your university application, moaning that you didn’t want to send it until you were sure that it was _perfect_? You don’t regret sending the ‘imperfect’ version now, do you?”

“As Michael Jord-han once said, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take,” Sehun added, nodding wisely. 

Kyungsoo only scowled, Huchu also seeming to judge Sehun from where she perched on her owner’s lap. “I think Luhan’s dramatic antics are rubbing off on you too much.”

But Junmyeon thought that Luhan was right, that even if he tripped over his words or mis-represented a statistic by a few points, it would be okay. Sure, maybe the board members wouldn’t be pleased, and the man who wanted to murder him would come just a little closer to putting his plan into action, but his family and friends— those whose opinions mattered most— would know that he had tried his best. And more than anyone else, he would know how hard that he had worked to get to that point, his sacrifices of studying time and precious sleep and how long he had spent trying to get the images on that one slide to align _just right_. Regardless of the end result, he was proud of himself.

And for once, he thought that maybe that was enough.

A Saturday afternoon a mere few weeks later, he was practicing yet another presentation, this time a speech for his high school graduation ceremony. His classmates and teachers whom he had spent the past four years with would be in the audience, not to mention his family, and much more than for some school report or business presentation, he wanted his words to be memorable. He had spent hours re-writing his script and then memorizing it, reciting it to anyone who was willing to listen. (Except for Sehun, who claimed listening to it in advance would be a “spoiler” and refused to join in on his rehearsal Skype call). 

“And congratulations to SM High School’s newest cohorts of graduates!” Junmyeon practically croaked, his throat feeling akin to a piece of coarse sandpaper. Yifan slow-clapped from where he sat on the floor by Junmyeon’s bed, chewing obnoxiously loudly on a piece of rainbow rice cake.

“Amazing, never seen before, truly revolutionary,” Yifan drawled, a goofy grin on his face. “I mean it, Junmyeon. I never thought that it was possible for anyone to memorize a fifteen minute speech, but I should have known if anyone could do it, it’d be you.”

Junmyeon only grinned contentedly, downing a glass of lemon water and flopping down next to Yifan, nestling his head on the taller boy’s shoulder. “I’m actually not that nervous,” he said, surprised even admitting it to himself. “I ran the speech by everyone in a Skype call earlier, and,” he continued, his tone markedly lighter, “even Mr. Wu Yifan, speech critiquer extraordinaire, seemed to approve of it.”

“What do _you_ think?” Yifan implored, looking down at him curiously.

“I think that I know this speech as well as I know that the greasy McDonald’s bag in your back seat is fifteen days old and counting,” Junmyeon lilted, causing Yifan to bury his face in Junmyeon’s hair in embarrassment. “And I think, I _know_ , that I did the best I could, so it’s time to give my throat a rest and watch some animal planet.”

Yifan lifted his head to send him a devastating pout. “I thought we agreed on _Hell’s Kitchen_?”

“But I _really_ want to watch episode one of _Life Story_ ,” Junmyeon argued, lunging for the remote lying on the ground a few feet away and bringing the giant flat screen television mounted to the wall near the door of his bedroom to life. “Kyungsoo and Jongin watched it and said that there were _meerkats_ , and they’re so unbelievably adorable!” Yifan grunted quietly, relenting and pulling Junmyeon flush against his side as they leaned against one of his bean bag pillows. 

“Still not as cute as you,” he mumbled lowly, laughing when Junmyeon squirmed in his hold. And yes, he thought, his cheek pressed against Yifan’s soft sweatshirt and his boyfriend’s arm wrapped around his shoulder, this was a wonderful way to close off his high school career.

✳✲✳

Junmyeon stared at his reflection in the mirror, his graduation cap balanced jauntily on the top of his head and his gown draped over his shoulders. He reached out to use a few of the bobby pins that he had borrowed from his mom’s makeup drawer to secure his cap in place, the navy tassel swaying gently from the light breeze that filtered through his window.

It almost felt like a typical weekday morning, waking up at 7AM sharp and getting dressed, packing his backpack and brushing his hair before padding downstairs for breakfast. But his navy school uniform blazer lay unworn on a hangar in his closet, and it was odd to think that it would likely remain there collecting dust until the end of time itself.

The familiar aroma of kimchi stew and fried egg filled his bedroom with the distinct flavour of nostalgia, and when Junmyeon closed his eyes, he could almost imagine himself getting ready for his first day of high school when his dad had cooked him the very same meal for breakfast. The anxious churning in his stomach was all too familiar, but he knew that the Junmyeon that looked back at him from the glossy surface of his mirror was different. Taller, more relaxed, and self-assured. There was a strange cocktail of emotions swirling within him, excitement and fear and sadness all at once, and the undeniable reluctance of leaving this part of his life behind.

But there would always be parts of his high school life that would live on with him, like his diary of memories— both painful and happy— and the precious relationships that he shared with his friends. His parents would always be a phone call away, and he hoped to visit Byul every once in a while, too.

Of course, there was Yifan, his co-president and friend who turned out to be so much more. They would be spending the next four years separated by the vast Pacific Ocean, because Yifan would be studying in Canada while Junmyeon would be staying in South Korea to earn his bachelor’s degree. But Junmyeon had never been the type of person to half-ass anything, and while a part of him was nervous that the distance would cause them to drift apart, he felt his heart throb with the conviction that he would do all he could to continue to be someone that his boyfriend could count on. He had heard from Kyungsoo that Yifan had already scheduled a year’s worth of care packages to be sent to his home, and he had quickly done the same, making sure to include the instant milk tea that Yifan liked so much.

He couldn’t say that he was ready to leave just yet, he thought, gazing at the pale blue walls of his bedroom that had blanketed him with a feeling of comfort and calm for the entirety of his life. But he supposed that that was part of growing up, of being brave enough to do things that scared him.

“Myeonnie, the _kimchi jjigae_ is ready!” he heard his father call from downstairs.

He slid his arms into the sleeves of his gown, casting one last long, lingering glance at himself, the Kim Junmyeon of today. He was excited to see who he would become.

  
  
  


Group chat “koolest kids XD”: 💪YIFAN, 😌Yixing🐑, uwu Chanyeol💩, Jongin 🧸🐶💞, Kim Junmyeon🐰, 😎MANhan⚽, HIS HIGHNESS ✨👑🙇, 💕vivi’s dad💕, Kyungsoo🐧

**uwu Chanyeol💩**

When are you guys arriving?

I’m almost at school!

**HIS HIGHNESS ✨👑🙇**

I’m not there yet

I’m picking drinks up for us :)

**😎MANhan⚽**

OMG

**💕vivi’s dad💕**

Bubble tea plssssss <3

**😎MANhan⚽**

Thank you baehyun :D

**uwu Chanyeol💩**

Paws off deer man!!!

**Kyungsoo🐧**

My family’s bringing pastries from the cafe

Junmyeon I tried making your olive chewisty doughnuts but I don’t know if they turned out that well…

**Kim Junmyeon🐰**

Aww thanks Kyungie :’)

I’m sure it’ll be delicious!

**😌Yixing🐑**

Kyungsoo is best chef:)

I’ll still eat it if it’s bad though hehe

**😎MANhan⚽**

Yixing your kindness is going to give you food poisoning someday

I worry for you

**Jongin 🧸🐶💞**

thanks guys!! i love food :D

but ksoo >>

**💪YIFAN**

No cheese in the group chat pls

But

Junmyeon >>

**💕vivi’s dad💕**

H y p o c r i t e 

**Jongin 🧸🐶💞**

:’(

myeonnie we r carpooling right? my fam's driving over to ur house now!

u ready to go?

**Kim Junmyeon🐰**

Yes! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this story! Congratulations to 2020 graduates everywhere and thank you to the mods for hosting this fic fest, I really enjoyed writing for it :)


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